Samuel D. Hunter's The Whale starts off more like a minnow, as a series of short scenes, and the blackouts between them, unfold without obvious dramatic payoff. But the format has a purpose, as the cumulative effect brings forth an emotional wallop worthy of its title seagoing creature. While Moby Dick and the Biblical story of Jonah are invoked, The Whale also refers to the central character, a protagonist quite unlike any that you may have seen on stage before.
Charlie, largely couch-bound and weighing in at nearly 600 lbs., is quick to agree with anyone who calls him repulsive. And playwright Hunter (A Bright New Boise) has provided us with graphic evidence to support that estimation. But Charlie is a far more complex and unexpectedly sympathetic character than initial impressions would suggest. At Marin Theatre Company, where The Whale is having its Bay Area debut, Charlie is brought to life in an often-excruciating but ultimately triumphant performance by Nicolas Pelczar that goes beyond anything to be realistically asked of an actor.
Costumed in an enormous fat-suit that he wears like a second skin, Pelczar heaves himself with great struggle amid fits of wheezes whenever he must leave his sagging homestead of a couch. But when he is settled, perhaps sated by a tub of fried chicken, Charlie can display empathetic charm as he teaches an online writing course, or be philosophically forthright about his condition and the reasons for it. In the face of insult, he can see a bright side. On her "hate blog," his long-estranged daughter has written that "there will be a grease fire in hell" when he dies. "She's a strong writer," he muses.
Married briefly, Charlie left his wife and gave up custody of his daughter when he fell in love with another man. But that man is dead, basically from a slow starvation as Mormon guilt reclaimed his soul. Now Charlie is killing himself with food, despite the interventions of a nurse friend who wants him to go to the hospital and, ironically, a callow Mormon missionary who gets much more than he bargained for when he tries to preach the gospel according to Joseph Smith. His prickly teen daughter becomes a regular visitor as well, and eventually his ex-wife shows up in alternating spasms of anger and concern as Charlie's final lunge for redemption is revealed.
Director Jasson Minadakis lets the play build gradually, trusting that possible bemusement will give way to growing involvement that is more powerful for the patient approach. Pelczar's Charlie is surrounded by vivid performances, with a frighteningly feisty Cristina Oeschger as his angry daughter, a no-nonsense Liz Sklar as the hovering nurse, an invitingly befuddled Adam Magill as the Mormon missionary, and a particularly heartfelt Michelle Maxson in the brief role of Charlie's ex-wife.
The list of technical credits includes the unusual designation of a "breath and physicality coach," but Vicki Shaghoian's work with Pelczar has intense effect. There's also a "fat-suit construction" credit to CMC & Design, and admirably it looks more like fat than a suit. All the pieces of this production have aligned with Hunter's words to bring The Whale to a place of rare theatrical magnitude.
The Whale will run through Oct. 26 at Marin Theatre Company. Tickets are $40-$53. Call 388-5208 or go to marintheatre.org.